


Out of Time

by Mythological_Compendium



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode Related, F/M, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-06 03:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1843420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythological_Compendium/pseuds/Mythological_Compendium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Prompt</b>: Realistic Sterek with Lydia being super supportive and maybe sleepovers with Lydia and Stiles talking about cases and then it somehow gets to talking about relationships or really deep shit like sleepovers usually do. Maybe Stiles telling her about Derek says this or just mentioning him a lot and Lydia's like “...Dude.” And Stiles says “Yeah, well maybe I like him a little, but he's gone now, it doesn't matter.” And then Derek comes back and Lydia tries to help Stiles get his attention. Make it as realistic as you can without death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Galvanize

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reapingwithjoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reapingwithjoy/gifts).



> Birthday present for my guiding light  
> Beta'd by the wonderful and ever-understanding [RavenclawDoll](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenclawDoll)

“What do the different colored strings mean?”

For a second, he’d forgotten that she was even in the room because she had been quiet for so long. Stiles turns over his shoulder to see Lydia Martin lying on his bed. How many times has he had _this_ fantasy? Too many times and, frankly, _way_ more than he’d like to disclose.

“Uh, just different stages of the investigation.” He brings his hand up as he speaks then drops it again to let his fingers hit against his thigh. “So like green is solved, yellow’s to be determined, blue is just…pretty.” He shrugs and puts the marker in his hand up against his lips as he faces his board again.

“What does red mean?”

“Uh, unsolved.”

“You only have red on the board.”

He turns to her, “Yes, I’m aware.” and nods. “Thank you.”

Lydia sighs. “Did you get detention for pulling the alarm?”

He pushes his lips out to press against the marker. “Yeap, every day this week. It’s okay though, we were on to sup’n.”

“Even though we couldn’t find any proof of Barrow being there.”

Something in her voice makes his stomach feel tight. He turns to see her staring off into space, absently wrapping a piece of the red string around her finger.

“Hey, Lydia,” He walks over and kneels next to the bed. “You have been right every time something like this has happened, okay? So don’t start doubtin’ yourself now.”

“No scent. No bomb.” She starts shaking her head. “I got you in trouble.”

“Okay,” He reaches up and starts untwining the string around her finger. “Okay look, Barrow was there, alright? You knew it. You _felt_ it. Okay? And look, if you wanted to—” He gets the string off her finger and tosses it on the bed. “—I’d go back to that school right now and search all night just to prove it.”

Lydia smiles, her red-painted lips stretching but not quite reaching her eyes. He can't help but smile back when butterflies come to life in his belly. She curls her lips inward and he watches. If this were a year ago, he’d be thinking about kissing her. Just once. Just to say he did. And he _has_ but not in the way that he would’ve wanted back then, the way he could now. She helped him through a panic attack. It wasn't real. He could make this one real.

Stiles realizes he's been staring.

He clears his throat, " _Man_ , I'm _starving_!" then rises to his feet. "You hungry?” He asks as he walks out of his room. "Think there might be some leftover pizza in the fridge."

Lydia follows him into the hallway a second later. He stands at the top of the stairs to let her go down first.

"You like pepperoni right?"

She scoffs. “Who doesn’t like pepperoni?”

Stiles laughs then rubs his hands together as he walks toward the fridge. “Alrighty, pizza party for two comin’ right up!”

There are six slices left in the box and he heats up four in the oven. He and his dad never made it through the whole pizza because Agent freakin McCall kept blowing up his phone so he had to leave pretty much as soon as the pizza guy got there.

Lydia is leaning against the counter next to him, arms folded over her middle with her face wrinkled like she’s in pain.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks, reaching for her shoulder.

He feels her twitch a little at his touch.

“Yeah,” she says softly.

"I know what we need,” he says, rubbing her back. “Drinks!” He skirts around her to the fridge, “We got…” then tugs the door open and peers inside. “…water.”

Stiles hears her little laugh and it brings a smile to his own face.

“And wait…OJ!” He grabs the jug from behind the half-empty casserole dish from three nights ago. That should probably go.

He sets the jug on the counter as soon as the oven beeps and grabs an oven mitt. Stiles curses when heat seeps through the mitt and he lets the pan land on the stovetop a little too heavily. Lydia is shaking her head at him flashing his fingers as she walks over to grab a couple of plates and glasses from the cupboard. His eyes catch the green numbers on the microwave.

“Shit. Is that the time?” He pats his back pocket as he glances around the kitchen. “Have you seen my phone?”

“It’s on your bed,” she answers, opening the jug.

Stiles races upstairs to his room, finds the edge of his phone poking out from underneath one of his pillows, and grabs it. He deflates when he sees he has no missed calls but he brings the phone with him back downstairs anyway, just in case.

Lydia is sitting at the table picking the pepperonis off her pizza and eating them one by one.

“You couldn’t wait?” Stiles quips.

She ignores the question and asks her own, "Expecting an important call?"

"Yeah," Stiles says as he takes the seat next to her. "Derek said he was gonna let me know how things were going with him and Cora in South-wherever-the-hell-they-are. There’s a time difference so I just thought I missed the call." He picks up a slice and bites into it.

“Since when do you care what’s going on with Derek?”

He shrugs and says with a mouth still half-full, “We sort of spent most of the summer together looking for Erica and Boyd and then after all that shit with Jennifer…I dunno," He swallows. “He just kinda grew on me.”

He sees Lydia arch her eyebrow. “ _He_ grew on _you_?”

“Yeah.” Stiles nods. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re smiling.” Stiles furrows his brow. “Why are you smiling?”

“I’m not!” She brings the folded slice of nothing but cheese to her lips. “You just seemed a little frantic when you thought you’d missed his call.” She shrugs and takes a bite.

“You should know by now that I’m kind of _always_ frantic.” He drops his crust on the plate and picks up the other slice. “Besides, he _said_ he’d call. He mostly said it to Scott but the point is he said it.”

Now she’s smirking. “You sound like a suspicious boyfriend.”

Stiles takes another bite then waits to swallow before waving his arms and saying, “The subject of this discussion doesn’t even really matter anyways cuz Derek’s gone and he might not be coming back." He shrugs as he tears his pizza crust down the middle. "I can’t even get a phone call outta the guy so he’s obviously trying to cut himself off from us."

Lydia’s frowning at him when he looks up at her again.

“What?”

"Are you afraid you lost your chance?" She asks softly and by the look on her face, he thinks she already knows the answer.

He gets this sinking feeling in his chest. Of course that had been in the back of his mind but he never thought it’d ever get said _out loud_. Jesus, when did the pizza party for two get so late-night-at-a-slumber-party deep?

“It’s not that." He lies, biting aggressively into the crust. "It’s just attraction. Derek’s attractive! Everyone thinks so.”

Lydia shrugs one shoulder. "He's alright."

Stiles snorts. "I forgot you like your men of the reptilian variety."

The glare Lydia gives him could cut through diamond and he’s happy to receive it. Things got way too personal there for a second.

He smirks. "Too soon?"

Lydia rolls her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“Thank you.” He pushes out his chest and grins before popping the last piece of crust into his mouth.

"Have you told him?" She asks some moments later.

"Have I told who what?"

She purses her lips. "Stop."

"’Course I haven’t told him."

"Doesn’t matter, he might've been able to smell it on you anyway." She shrugs. “Aiden can tell whenever I’m—”

“Okay whoa whoa!” He covers her mouth with his hand. “ _Don’t_ finish that sentence first of all, oh my God.”

Lydia slaps away his hand. “I’m just saying he might already know that you like him.”

“Of course, werewolves can smell pheromones and shit.” He mutters to himself. “Now if Derek _does_ come back I have to worry about masking my sce—" He freezes midsentence, eyes darting in the space just beyond her head.

“Stiles?”

“Get up.” He says.

“What?”

“Get up _now_ , we’re goin’ to the school.” He moves through the kitchen and toward the front door.

“What about the—”

“Lydia, leave it, c’mon!” He shouts, watching her jump out of the chair and head toward him. “Sorry.” He says, placing his hand on the small of her back to lead her out of the house.

“We’re not done talking about this.” She says, waiting for him to lock the front door.

Stiles rolls his eyes and herds her toward his jeep.


	2. Illuminated

It's weird, him being in Derek's loft when Derek's not here, not _home_. Yes, there's like a hundred other people here with him, drunkenly dancing to blaring music, bumping, grinding, kissing, the usual high school party shenanigans ‘cept with glowing paint.

Stiles sighs, looking out from his place on the steps to see Caitlin coming back with two beers.

"D’yu have a bottle opener?” She asks and he scoots over so she can take a seat next to him.

“Yes!” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his key chain to find the opener but she snatches the thing away from him before he could.

"Your key has phosphors on it." She holds it up for him to see. “Look.”

He notices the overlapping neon green thumb prints on the broadest part of that strange key. He takes it from her and brings it a little closer to his face. He had never noticed that before and he’s looked at the key like a million times trying to place it.

"I'm sorry, what are phosphors?" He asks.

“Uh, they’re any substance that luminesces.” Caitlin leans her head against him and continues, “It’s in your teeth, your fingernails…laundry detergent.”

He catches her staring at him as she speaks and when he looks down slightly, she presses her lips to his. Stiles is completely blindsided but he instinctively kisses back until she pulls away.

“It’s also in this.” She reaches up to wipe the lipstick on his lips and his tongue follows her thumb. “Reacts to the UV light, that’s why it glows.”

Stiles nods “Huh,” then furrows his brow. “Uhm,” He glances away for a second, unsure how exactly to breach the subject. “I thought you liked girls.”

“I _do_ like girls.” She says. “Do _you_?”

“Absolutely!”

“Great!”

“So you also like boys?”

“Absolutely!” She’s nodding. “Do _you_?”

Stiles opens his mouth then snaps it shut again and gulps, deciding to change the subject. “How’d I get phosphors on my key?” He holds it up and she stares at it instead of him.

“Have you been handling chemicals?”

 _Don’t have a chemistry class this semester so_ “No, I don’t think I—” _Wait_ … “I’m sorry,” he gets up from the staircase, almost making her fall. “I’m really totally sorry, I just thought of something and I-I-I have to go, I really…I don’t want to, I wanna stay. I would just _stay_ all ni—I swear but I-I ha-I really have to go and I don’t wanna offend you.”

She nods again. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry!” He calls back but it was probably lost on her ears as he turns and runs into the swaying crowd, heading toward the door to the loft.

As an afterthought, Stiles decides to go to the drink table instead.

Lydia finds him as soon as he grabs a water bottle he aims to bring back to Caitlin.

“Stiles!”

“Hey! Hold on I gotta—what?” He asks when he catches her staring at his lips.

She reaches up to swipe her index finger across his lips then shows him the glowing stain. “Are you kidding me?”

He pushes her hand down. “It’s not what you think. I’ll be right back."

She grabs his arm before he can walk away. “Derek’s here.”

Stiles freezes, almost dropping the bottle. “Derek? Like _Derek_ Derek? Derek _Hale_ Derek?”

She rolls her eyes and grabs his shoulders then turns him around. Lydia extends her arm over his shoulder, pointing. Stiles follows her finger until his eyes lock on Derek stalking through the crowd with his general looking-for-someone-to-murder face.

He flips back around to Lydia and stutters, "I—"

“Go talk to him!” She urges, hiding a smile and pushing at his chest.

“I ca—” Stiles searches her eyes, unsure of what exactly to do. “I can’t, I gotta—”

Lydia holds his shoulders. “Yes you can.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, Lydia, I just figured it out. The key...the key has phosphors on it."

“What key?”

Shit, he never told her about the key.

“I have to go!” He starts backing away but he’s caught in her grip again and this time her little smile is gone.

“Stiles, go talk to him!”

“Not now!”

“Yes now!” She glares. “Don’t lose _this_ chance too. You may not get another one.”

Stiles gets this feeling like his stomach is sliding into his shoes. He takes a deep breath and sighs it out, nods as he grabs the nearest shot glass of God-knows-what and downs it. He shoves the water bottle at Lydia while he winces at the burn in the back of his throat.

"Can you bring that to the girl in the pink wig over there?” He points and Lydia looks back. “Please?”

She says, “Clean your face off.” before turning to walk away.

Stiles rubs the back of his hand over his mouth as he walks through the crowd again.

He meets Derek right before he reaches the DJ. “Hey!”

“Not now, Stiles.” Derek says, moving passed him.

A bodyguard stops Derek with a hand on his chest. “Bro, sorry, Bloody Beetroot doesn’t take requests.”

Derek nods, smiling, but keeps moving.

He grabs Derek's chest again. “Bro, seriously.”

Derek pushes the hand off and Stiles steps between them before Derek ends up throwing the guy. “Sorry! Sorry, my friend here, he’s a little drunk.”

“I’m—” Derek starts but Stiles grabs him by the arm and pulls.

“C’mon man let’s find you a place to sit down, huh?”

He manages to get Derek turned around before he wrestles his way out of Stiles’ grip.

“What are you doing?” Derek barks—Stiles'll have a chuckle at that later. “I need to get these people out of here, there’s something co—”

“I gotta talk to you.” Stiles cuts in.

“It can wait.” Derek stresses each word with his teeth bared.

“Y’know what?” He gets right back up in Derek’s face because whatever he drank looks like it’s starting to work and there is literally no time to argue right now. “No it _can’t_ , because I am currently freaking out and if I don’t get this off my chest _right now_ you might frikin’ leave again and then I’ll have to stew in it until you decide to just show up a month or whenever from now.”

Derek blinks slowly, his face passive, then he sighs.

Something tight wraps around Stiles’ wrist and Derek is walking away with Stiles being tugged along behind him. They push through the crowd, forcefully, getting a few glares along the way before they reach the door. Derek pulls him outside the loft and closes the iron door behind them to block out some of the sound.

“What is it?” Derek asks.

Stiles clears his throat, kind of nervous all over again.

“Look, the thing is…I…” He exhales hard enough to puff out his cheeks.

Derek furrows his brow but doesn’t say a word, just stares, waiting, and Stiles doesn’t know if his silence is making it better or worse.

“I think I—”

“Stiles,” He’s cut off _just_ at the second that he was about to blurt it out. "If you're only telling me this thing because you think I'm leaving again then you should keep it until a more opportune moment. I'm not going anywhere."

He didn’t notice that Derek had moved closer until right this second.

Stiles shakes his head. " _I_ don't know that."

Derek looks down at his lips with an even deeper furrow on his brow and— _Fuck_ —Stiles licks them to get rid of anymore traces of lipstick. Now is not the time to have doesn’t need the remnants of someone else’s lips on him.

"Look, just let me say it okay?" Stiles takes a deep breath. "It'll be better if I say it."

Derek nods and doesn't move back.

"Over the summer, I thought we might've—”

Someone inside screams then there's a crash before the music cuts off and isn't that just the definition of their lives lately.

Stiles throws his arms up. "Oh _come on_!"

"Stiles."

He reacts in time to have Derek yank him forward so he doesn't get trampled when the door bursts open and people start pouring out of the loft.

"I know you said that this can't wait but..."

Stiles nods, defeated. "Just go. Go fight monsters and save the town. Whatever." He starts following the crowd down the steps.

"Stiles," Derek calls and he almost doesn't turn around. "We'll talk later, okay? I promise."

Stiles purses his lips— _Yeah right_ —and keeps walking.


	3. Riddled

Derek watches Scott walking back and forth across the waiting room, like he has been ever since he told Scott about Barrow and the foxfire. Watching Scott reminds him of how distraught he was when Cora was in the hospital. He knows Scott’s apprehension because it felt the same to him then with Cora as it feels to him now with Stiles. Like something is breaking off and time is running out to fix it before it falls away.

He hears Scott’s third sigh in a row and decides to break the silence. “How long did they say he might be in there?”

Scott shakes his head and answers, “An hour.”

He walks down to the far end of the room and Derek’s eye catches the couch there.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” He asks.

“I’m fine.” Scott just keeps pacing.

"You should rest, Scott." Derek urges. "Stiles won't appreciate coming back and seeing you looking like ass. I'll wake you up when he's out."

Scott stops his pacing and turns to Derek with his brow furrowed before he snickers. "'Looking like ass'?" Scott laughs a little and already Derek can feel a change in the air.

"It's something I heard." He said, smiling a little himself.

"Sounds like Stiles."

“Yeah,” He clears his throat. "It was that night when it stormed while we were out looking for Boyd and Erica."

"Oh, yeah," Scott takes his seat again. "He told me about how miserable it was."

Derek shrugs.

_It was in the middle of June and those short thunderstorms were happening every night for at least three weeks. He sat on the hood of his car in the dead of night staring into the dark woods wondering where to begin. After all, it felt like he’d combed every inch of the town with the others trying to find Boyd and Erica. There was nowhere else to look._

_That was where Stiles found him. Derek had only called because they agreed on a buddy system._

_They searched for an hour before a flash of lightening lit up the night sky. Stiles stopped right where he was and dropped the bag he always carries on his shoulders while they’re searching._

_‘What are you doing?’ Derek asked, watching the teen stretch his back before bending over to pull a folded-up tent out of the bag._

_Stiles waited until the thunder rolled through the night sky before answering, ‘We have to stop, it’s about to start raining.’_

_Derek rolled his eyes. ‘You’re scared of a little rain?’_

_'_ _Hey, don’t come crying to me when you’re all sniffly’_

_'Werewolves don’t get sniffly, idiot.’_

_‘Suit yourself.’_

_The rain started before Stiles was finished putting up the tent and it was coming down in waves by the time he was done. Derek stood outside the tent for maybe thirty seconds before climbing in after Stiles._

_‘It’s a tight fit.’ He complained as he pulled the zipper up again, shielding them from the rain._

_‘It’s not made for two.’ Stiles replied in a tone mocking Derek’s. ‘I’ve got pretzels, you want some?’_

_Derek watched the raindrops run down the side of the tent as he popped his last pretzel into his mouth. It was still coming down after fifteen minutes and it had no indication of stopping any time soon._

_'Have you been sleeping?' Stiles asked as he crushed the empty pretzel bag in his hands and shoved it into the outside pocket of his bag. 'You look like hell.'_

Derek doesn't clearly remember his answer, just that Stiles replied, _'You're welcome to go back outside if you're gonna be rude.'_

 _'_ _No Stiles,' He adjusted to lessen the strain on his bottom from sitting. 'I haven't been sleeping.'_

_'You want the first thing Boyd and Erica to see once you find them is their Alpha looking like ass? That's not setting a very good example.'_

Derek is sure he didn't give a response then. 

_Stiles didn't tell him outright to go to sleep until a few minutes later. 'I'm not going to sleep with you here.' He argued and Stiles retorted something about promising to only take two or three pictures of him while he's out._

_Derek didn't laugh though he was tempted._

_More time spent watching rainwater fall outside the tent made Derek's eyelids start to droop. He turned to Stiles, finding the teen with his eyes glued to a tablet Derek didn't know he had._

_'If I'm asleep, what are_ you _going to do?'_

 _'_ _Keep watch dummy. When the rain stops or if something attacks our domicile, I'll wake you.' He pressed three of his fingers together and held them up. 'Promise.'_

__'_ You were a scout?' Derek queries, staring a little longer than he should have at Stiles' fingers._

_'For a little while...'til I got bored.' He made his wild Stiles gestures with his hands. 'I better hear you snoring in the next ten seconds.'_

_'I don't snore.' Derek mumbled as he set himself into as comfortable a position as he could._

_It wasn't raining by the time he woke up the next morning with Stiles curled up next to him, his tablet tucked beneath his chest and drooling lightly onto Derek's arm where his head lay._

"It wasn't that bad."

He notices Scott staring and pushes away the smile he hadn't realized was growing on his face.

Scott folds his lips to hide his own smile and dips his head as he moves to sit with his elbows on his knees. "Y’know, uh that stuff you were telling me about chemo-signatures earlier?”

Derek searches Scott’s eyes before mirroring his action and nodding.

“It reminded me of the time you were teaching me to use anger to control the shift.”

“I think you ended up teaching me more about that.”

Scott shows his smile now. “You teaching me again?”

“Think of it more like sharing a few trade secrets.”

Scott nods.

“You know I took Cora back to South America right?” Derek continues, “It’s where she spent most of her time after the fire, but that’s not the only reason I left. I needed to talk to my mother.”

Scott gives him a look of confusion. “Your… _dead_ mother?”

“She told me something that changed my perspective…on a lot of things. She said my family didn’t just live in Beacon Hills. They protected it. This town _needs_ someone to protect it. Someone like you.”

Scott huffs and smiles softly. “And someone like you to teach me a few trade secrets.”

Derek averts his eyes and matches Scott’s smile. Scott stands again and Derek thinks he’s about to resume pacing until he says,

“He’s trying to protect us. Stiles was _protecting_ us.”

Scott’s words lock in his mind and he comes to the same realization seconds later. “From himself.”


	4. The Divine Move

Every newspaper clipping, every photo, every article, every piece being removed feels like a deep, calming breath after being trapped without air. When he started, he was going slowly, tentative, tossing the pieces into the trashcan. Now he’s ripping with abandon, breathing deeply, the floor around him covered.

“Hey,”

His father’s voice pulls him away from his work and he turns as he tears the last pieces of a large photo from the wall.

“Wacha doin’?”

“Uh,” Stiles faces the wall again, yanks down that picture of Harris, “Just uh,”—and throws it to the floor before looking back at his dad— “clearing my head.”

He matches his father’s smile before he walks away then turns back to rip down another piece that reveals a hole dug deep in the wall. His stomach protests as he crushes it in his hand.

“Hey Dad,” He calls as he drops the piece of newspaper and walks to the door. “You think maybe we can get something to eat. I’m starving.”

“Where would you like to go?”

Startled, Stiles quickly turns over his shoulder to see Derek standing in front of the swaying blinds over his window.

“Dude, you _cannot_ sneak up on me like that." Stiles breathes, reaching up to clutch at his chest before letting his hand drop back to his side instead.

Derek frowns, “I’m sorry." He looks around at the pictures scattered on the floor and follows them up the wall. “Do you need help?”

Stiles shakes his head and steps back over to where he was. “You can help by picking a place to eat.”

Derek dips his head and smiles. “Any place in particular?”

Stiles shrugs. “If you’re paying, I’ll go anywhere.”

“Maybe somewhere we can talk.” He moves closer to Stiles as he speaks, “I vaguely remember you having something to tell me.”

He hears Stiles’ sharp exhale, leans forward to check if he’s smiling when something catches Derek’s senses. He smells different. Something mixed with the usual Stiles smell.

“About that…uh,” Stiles turns to Derek and takes a deep breath, when he exhales Derek smells it again and now he’s sure of it. Someone has left a claiming mark on Stiles. Someone took him as their own. Someone who wasn’t Derek. And it was recent.

"Things are different now Derek, a lot of things.” He notices Derek’s closeness only after the wolf takes a step back. “I need to rethink some stuff, y'know and I—”

“It’s alright…” Derek interjects. “I get it.”

“Wh-Y-you do?”

Derek nods and moves back even further, retreating toward the door. He says the first thing that comes to mind, “You’re not feeling like yourself yet…” Anything to make this plausible, easier. “You need time.” _I ran out of mine_.

“Where’re you going?” Stiles scoffs as he glances down at Derek’s feet. “I thought we were getting me food.”

Derek leans his hand against the doorway. “I’ll let your dad know you’re hungry.”


End file.
